Author: equinoxgardens@gmail.com

One beautiful snow storm, three rounds of the stomach flu, countless errands and daily grinds later and poof! Tomorrow’s departure is upon us.  Whirlwind is a gentle description of what recent life has been like for us, but like a child on Christmas Eve, I stop myself mid-chore and revel in the excitement of what is to come. Pack pack pack… thoughts of snorkeling in crystal clear waters. Gather tax information… lazy afternoons in the cockpit. Haul wood for the stove… slicing through the water on a broad reach with the sun warming our soon-to-be bared skin. So soon we’ll be able to skip the first pesky bits and immerse ourselves in the daydream.

The girls have had their snow fix, hopefully (Mom guilt never ends! Oh the joy.), and we’ve snowshoed, sledded, romped and ice skated, having snatched the opportunities each short window of cold and/or snowy weather has brought to us.

At this stage, we’ve also said our goodbyes, made our way though our lists, and as of today have relocated our chickens, our fish, our cat, our dog and our plants, to six different homes. It truly takes a village for us to get out of here! All but the cat have settled into their temporary vacation homes nicely, and the best we can do now is to hope for their continued good behavior and a swift turnaround from Goose, who is apparently not taking to having other cats in her home life well. Cats, you know? Kinda jerks sometimes.

For the final errand, we picked up the U-Haul trailer that we’ve rented to schlep our junk south. Just hours after pulling it into the garage for space assessment, it’s practically full. While we won’t have neon kayaks strapped to the roof, we’ve still found a way to acquire that ‘Squatley’ look  that we’ve fine-tuned over the years, and for that I’m proud. Junk/not really junk list includes: our new cushions for the salon, a new outboard for Flipper, our dinghy, our new binnacle, our newly varnished cockpit table, galley contents that we brought home with us last spring (it took a while to find oils, spices and cooking sauces and condiments that were the perfect size for the galley shelves, so keeping them together to take back for refilling was a major time saver to the alternative of starting all over again), and the rest are the usual suspects- clothes, craft re-supplies, books, new games and school work. Towing the trailer might mean that we have a wee bit of leg room for the ride, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself with hope. It’s likely that I forgot something(s) that I’ll want to cram in at the last minute.

As I scout for things in the house and clean my way around it, I keep finding wonderful little creations everywhere. As I tucked the girls in tonight, I found that V had labeled her favorite step (stool, apparently?), which I adore. I’ll bet Chickadee is excited to get dressed up again, too.

It’s that time again- the guest room is filling up once more with our winter needs, splayed out on display for constant adjustments every time the doorway is darkened. A little less time at home for me this fall and early winter has meant a bit less organization and pre-planning on my end, but I’m hoping to make huge strides this week (and next, considering it’s my last option!) on the getting-my-boat-*$@!-together front.

One thing that we have done is taken delivery of our new salon cushions. They are button-free (the previous versions had buttons lashing the bolsters, which were not the most comfortable bare-legged backdrop) and crisp and clean, and I’m sure that their slow death marches of family cruising usage will begin immediately, perhaps before they even see the seats upon which they are to lay, thanks to the girls making forts with them where they are currently stacked. Many thanks to Carl at The Sail Shack (https://www.facebook.com/bernardschoolhouse) for a timely and professional job. On a technical note, we opted for mesh on their backs for better ventilation, and the new foam within will be a welcomed change. The last batch felt a bit, er, rotten and disgusting.. to put it nicely.

On the actual Chickadee side of things, Andy flew down to the yard yesterday for a week to prep the ole girl for our arrival. He’ll fly back next week a mere three days before we all shove out in the family roadster, but in the meantime our individual chore lists are considerable.

My list includes finishing up the details of our clerical departure (lists for work, lists for the guardians of our various aspects of our lives- living and otherwise, numerous lists for packing, etc.) all while keeping the children and animals alive, fed, clothed, schooled and activitied (I am grateful to not be focusing too much on the animals’ clothing or schooling, I’ll be the first to admit).

Andy’s list includes adding a starting battery separate from our house bank, replacing our fresh water pump, replacing our raw water pump, rebooting our electrical system (new, higher-output alternator included), and un-messing the mess that is the culmination of ‘what he arrived to find + mess that he’s making while tearing the boat apart to work’ in anticipation of the family arrival next weekend. His list is a doozy with no actual Chickadee comforts for a while, but since his list is much closer to excellent Tex-Mex, I’ll be honest and say that I’m less apt to feel considerable amounts of pity. (Relllllleeeennnooos.)

Florida-based spirits were low yesterday as he tried to recover from a day of a 4am-start travel while simultaneously charging himself up to work in a sweaty, mildewy boat full of rigging and stored parts with the only physical comfort in the form of cushions that were thousands of miles away. The sun shade proved valuable in that in kept the boat cooler for the hot summer days and therefore had likely less damaging affect on bits and pieces below, but the algal blooms of not having great air flow was the key to the decision to not re-enact the same scenario last year. Our poor Chickadee is a bit green.

On the flip side, his first full day was a productive one, and he checked one of the dirty jobs off of his list: sanding and painting the bottom.

Tomorrow he launches, and will begin the electrical fun.

Tomorrow I will continue on in the world of Hamilton and Harry Potter-crazed life in which I currently exist, but with a bit more trip planning thrown into the wee hours. There are curriculums to plan and piles of stuff to be organize- both jobs greatly enhanced by a little Revolutionary War hip hop, if I do say so myself.

After months and months of ‘real life’ ashore, our cruising gears are starting to turn once more. While the actual pre-trip tasks at hand include things like ordering parts, cushion cover checks, binnacle repair and gathering odds and ends for electrical upgrades, the activities that come to me first are clearly of utmost importance: drinking and driving. I’m KIDding, people, kidding!! But really, on the same day that I bit the bullet and cheesed out on a personalized plate for the gymnastics wagon (the kids aren’t into soccer quite yet), I found this delightful wine. (It is worth mentioning that its delight is only found on its label, and not inside the bottle, lest any of you run out for a case. It tastes much like I’d imagine the feathers of that bird would taste after a trip through smog-rich skies.)
And so it begins for the 2017 trip! Updates to come on hopeful routes, boat beautification and attitudes ’round these parts.

As we’d ‘mastered’ the overnight slog on I-95 on the way down, we prepped the kids and went for it again, leaving Indiantown one afternoon and pulling into my sister’s driveway outside of Portsmouth, NH the next evening. It takes a day to shake the exhaustion from the effort to be sure, but still worth the time, since it was as if a flip was switched when we pulled out of the boatyard- spring responsibilities in Maine were calling.

And just like that, we’re back to the northern climes that are so desperate to freeze any memories of warmth as quickly as possible from our fading skin. After an all-too-brief enjoyment of the silent cleanliness that our home greeted us with, we settled in with gusto, firing up the wood stove and unpacking the bags that seemed to have bred in the back of the car while we were underway.

The things we read about are proving to be true: we do already have a countdown until we head back again, and I’m lamenting the loss of our simple life onboard to a great degree. Plan-making! Pets! Dentist appointments! After school activities! Board meetings! Kids and toys here, there and everywhere! (Not to mention actual work days…) Re-entry, yeesh. Our multi-faceted social whirlwinds have meant exhausting days for all of us, and the girls were both a bit bleary-eyed after their first day back at school. I’m bleary-eyed from the cold, but I’ll stop complaining about that.

With this ‘newfound’ thingy called Wifi, I’m able to do all sorts of things online, so I’m busy ordering boat cards and checking pricing on the life raft that we brought back to sell. (Anyone?) I love my lists, and I already adore those of the ‘Chickadee 2017’ variety. As soon as we sell our life raft, generator, strip and varnish the cockpit table and coamings that we brought home, sew new cushion covers for the main salon, rebuild the old starter that we brought home, send in the broken binnacle for repair and order cards, we’ll go ahead and get started on the things that are on the lists that have yet to be listed since we’ve yet to think of them. I’m sure it’ll be lengthy. I’ll surely keep you posted.

 

Because my mind is spinning with the imminent collision of our two worlds (nights have been been restless with the return to mental list-making), I’ll give you a photo rundown of the past few days. They’ve been busy and varied, but we’ve managed to find our favorite bits to satisfy- swimming time and goofing time.

(As an apology to the teachers: this week has not included too much (any) school time. The guilt is compounding for me as Tuesday has now slipped into Wednesday, but alas, haul schedule and the necessary tasks associated trumped our morning schooling sessions. Gulp.)

 

Two days on the Okeechobee Waterway later, and we’ve definitely seen some memorable sights. Andy has now found his favorite stretch of waterway steaming (west of the lake), I have really found my crocheting groove for the useless sake of more bags for the little bag ladies (they follow in their mother’s, aunt’s and Mimi’s footsteps there, I’m afraid), and we’ve racked up 20+ alligator sightings, all while making good eastward progress.

We left LaBelle mid morning yesterday as the bridge allowed, and motored the day away. We kept ourselves busy with some phone calls,

some cow spotting,

a couple of locks,

and some ‘gator scouting.

We pulled in for the night at the Roland Martin Marina, which was a trip. A tiki bar, showers, laundry, a modest pool (reason numero uno for choosing it!), a live band until midnight, and all of the bass fishing aficionados one could want. It’s a culture I knew absolutely nothing about, and after eyeing the equipment and overall scene for the afternoon and morning, I’m still quite unclear on a number of key points. (The boats don’t look safe- ARE they safe? If you’re hauling in slimy fish all day, why are the decks all carpeted? Is traction worth the stench? What’s so great about large mouth bass? Is ALL of that really rigmarole just for bragging rights? When do you start drinking? Why are they so low in the water? What happens when a giant wake comes? WHERE ARE ALL OF THE RODS?! (Seriously- dozens of bass fishing boats and I didn’t see ONE fishing rod.)) One thing that I am sure of, however, is that fishing also requires a huge truck.

After a beautiful sunrise while making our way out into Lake Okeechobee (along with a few fishing boats, if you know what I mean), we motor sailed across to the Port Mayaca lock.

Once in the eastern Okeechobee Waterway, our excitement began. Our ‘tipper’ came along in his skiff, filled with 50 gallon water barrels, which he transferred to our deck before filling them up. He had a measuring stick on a halyard up the mast connected to a weight marked for the bridge height: when the weights hit the water, we were good to go. Heel we did- 6 barrels, plus 6 people (he had an assistant) and all of our jerry cans on the port side did the trick. I held my breath nonetheless, and our antenna pinged a bit, but we went safely under.

With that rush came the subsequent crush of realization that we were almost ‘home’, back to Indiantown. Sigh. Since we don’t haul until Tuesday we had earlier decided to keep it entertaining by overshooting the yard by 15 miles and staying at the St. Lucie Lock campground for a couple of nights. They have slips for docking, and a playground for the kids, so it’s a great spot for de-rigging, etc.

They dropped me at Indiantown and I drove the car here to meet them so we’d have wheels for tasks later. Watching my people and my home float away was quite awful, really, after two solid months of being together 24/7. I felt like my daemon was getting stretched too far away, for those familiar with His Dark Materials. Some piece of me felt too far for comfort, and the saddest part to realize, as I sat waiting for them to round the bend into view, is that it’ll be a feeling that becomes normal again in the wash of activity and commitments of the re-entry to come. To quote my favorite Tina Fey line once again: ‘Blerg’.

Here’s what I do realize though: we get to do it again! And again! This experience has created the greatest carrot to dangle for future family adventure time, and our Chickadee will sweat it out (literally) and wait for us.

For the short term, tomorrow’s list includes stowing, cleaning, little projects, and my favorite ‘chore’: eating down the stores. It’s where we shine, really. I’ll spare you the pictures.

 

 

Back in the waterway, our day yesterday was productive by our eastward miles made, and relaxing by Chickadee standards.

I finally finished sewing the last of our ripped dodger spots, so my fingers are not only calloused, but crossed that no new gaps open up before we leave.  We’re hoping to budget for a replacement this coming season, as this one is on its last legs, but at least it’s buttoned up for now.

The girls played for hours, we crafted, they watched movies, and then spent quite a bit of time drying the boat out after a huge powerboat flew by and their wake sent a wall of water down below (onto our bunk, yay!) through the open hatches. Thank goodness it was a beautiful calm day (hence hatches open), so we were able to get most things dried out, but certainly not before I had lovely thoughts about what karma might do to rude boaters.

Our day’s highlight was going through Franklin Lock before landing in LaBelle, what is supposed to be a cute little town that we’ve not yet seen. There is free dockage here, across a little road from a library that we visited yesterday afternoon, but this morning I’ll take a peek at town (or its grocery store, more specifically) before we head eastward still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The man who will heel the boat over for us has just realized that Sunday is Easter, so we’re pressing forward a bit quicker to get there by tomorrow. If the boatyard doesn’t have room for us on the dock yet, we’ll find a spot elsewhere to tuck in and begin our ‘undoing’ process. Waaaaaahh…

As the countdown to hauling continues, we slowly and sadly check things off of our ‘last’ list. We had our last swim off of the boat in clean waters in the Dry Tortugas, and yesterday was our last beach day, spent on Ft. Myers Beach.

Described by two unrelated people as ‘honky tonk’, it was indeed a sight to behold. Spring breakers, retirees, day boaters and vacationing families like ours packed, literally packed, the landscape and the abutting water space.

Wedging ourselves into the throngs on the very hard-packed sand, we actually quite enjoyed ourselves with the warm water, a picnic, our usual bag of activities, and watching the walkers, runners, bikers, sashayers and the like for hours on end. (The true highlight to the day was not any particular sight, but rather the fact that Andy and I blew our previous kadima record of 254 out of the water with an astonishing 671! Cheap thrills.)

Our Ft. Myers day was contrasted by a lovely and quiet day on Naples Beach just before we sailed out the day before; not many people, and beautiful white sand for miles with great shelling.

A dolphin chased the waves at our feet for the entire morning, which is something we’d never seen.  We ran alongside it for a long time, and as soon as we’d return to our towel up it’d pop again.

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Today we head ‘in’, off of the ocean and into the waterway, and  we’ll be back to our bridge and lock schedules and brown water. We have a scheduled ‘tip’ on Sunday (our mast is three feet too tall for a fixed bridge on our route, so we’ve hired someone to heel us over enough to get us through) before our scheduled haul in Indiantown on Tuesday. From there it’s buttoning our Chickadee up for the summer and driving home. I cannot express ‘waaaaaah’ enough- this trip has been so wonderful in so many ways.

Twenty four hours a day with these people that I love so dearly? Hard to beat in the chaos of a Maine spring and summer.

For now I’ll take the last week to fully absorb our simple boat life that has become so natural and perfect: coffee, tidy the cockpit, curl up with book, see two little faces wrapped in their soft blankets appear, breakfast, school, onshore adventure, sail, tidy the cabins, craft, swim, cook, eat, dishes, sunset, crash, repeat. See? Hard to beat!

Leaving our newly beloved Dry Tortugas for the west coast meant our first overnight run aboard Chickadee. We had light but steady winds to sail by day, and calm seas by sunset that had us firing up the engine for the night.

The girls were happy to be experiencing their first truly offshore night, and despite the frustrating  pot-dodging maneuvers that Andy dealt with in his pre-dawn watch (Susan=zzzzz after her pre-pre-dawn stint), it was a great trip.

Just before dinner in the cockpit at sunset we were awarded front row seats at an incredible dolphin performance, complete with bow wake-riding, tail slaps and full aerial flips, which went on for 20 minutes. It was a treat, as if ordered especially for our entertainment. During the night watch I loved hearing the random “phhh” of breath breaking the surface, and a blip of a cresting dolphin every now and then. While I find complete comfort in the vastness of the endless sea offshore, especially at night, it’s nice to have company every once in a while.

Another fun show was a fighter jet fly-by, seemingly out of nowhere and boom, upon us in a flash. We all happened to be in the cockpit, and as Andy and I grinned and waved like idiots and Lily cleverly covered her ears to shield them from the insane accompanying noise (and out of fear, more likely), we saw the two pilots clearly as they swooped down toward us (heart: stopped), tipped onto their side for a show, and zoomed off into the ether.  It was so, SO crazy. And amazing. And I want it to happen every time I sail. (Minus the noise, which was deafening. Lily’s the smart one in the family.)

We arrived on Marco Island in the early morning, and treated ourselves with a marina chosen for its pool. De-salt the boat, re-chlorinate the bodies. Probably makes sense in some universe?

A full day of swimming later, and  we’ve since moved up the coast to Naples, where we sit, waiting out a frontal system before creeping northward still. I’m in denial that our time is wrapping up; I think they’ll have to take me kicking and screaming. However, we’re enjoying our days right to the end; today was a day at the Naples Zoo, and it was a keeper. THIS happened:

Also tigers fighting, black bear feeding, lemurs (Lily’s favorite, thanks to Borat),

and Violet’s cherished cheetahs.

We’ve visited family, family friends, yarn crafted ourselves to death, walked in town and West Marine-d ourselves up.

After a beachy morning, we’ll hope the wind shifts by afternoon and make our way to Fort Myers Beach.

Until then!

Are you like me in that you’ve seen Dead Calm one too many times, and you therefore think that any boat-based disturbance is probably just the work of Billy Zane and his crazy eyes and incredibly white teeth? I figured as much. On that note, I want to tell you all about Rocky.

Joking really, the only thing Rocky has in common with Billy Zane is that he showed up on a boat unannounced. See? Here he is:

So, on a pleasant 40nm sailing day from Marquesa to Garden Key, our home-to-be in the Dry Tortugas, a -bleeping- pigeon lands on board. After an hour or so of having trouble getting out of the breeze on deck (der…), it decided to get comfy on the settee. A rock pigeon, hopelessly lost with no land in sight, and bing bang boom we had ourselves a new roomie with a name. Andy and I have had plenty of little songbirds alight on boats during offshore passages, but they always met their ends shortly afterward due to the stress of their travels. (I still think of Larry (Bird) pitching forward on his little beak into the ramekin of water we set out for him, sniff.) Rocky was bound to live on.

Our arrival in the picturesque anchorage meant the usual tasks of arrival clean up and set up of various activities, and yet even the noisy bustling and carrying on wasn’t cause to scare him off, nor was the lure of land in sight any match for the attachment of Rocky to Chickadee.

Not skittish whatsoever, we were able to read the markings on his leg bands, and learned that he is a Cubano! Estaba muy bueno para   practicando mi espanol. Either way, he didn’t say much.

We left him on the galley counter, where I had fed him a bowl of water (he practically flew into my hand when he saw me pull the bottle from the fridge), and went ashore.

The island is incredible in that 95% of its landmass is taken up by the fascinating if historically useless Fort Jefferson. Thankfully for our crew, the other 5% is a variety of beautiful beaches. And two other pigeons, with similar bands on their legs. (We’ve since been told that they are Cuban racing pigeons, trained to fly up to 90miles, for whatever reason one trains a pigeon to do that.)

We swam and lounged, before the kids kayaked and swam some more from the boats.

The resident Goliath groupers (also called a Jewfish, if I’m correct that it’s the same thing) were mistaken for nurse sharks by adults looking down on kids in kayaks, which was moderately freaky, but all in all the kids had their usual crazy time playing.

Cocktail hour, and guess who was still here? This guy:

Still on board, Andy finally picked Rocky up, threw him toward the island, and we cheered as he swooped away…  and then back to the bow of our boat. Later in the evening we tried again, only to have him land on our neighbor’s boat. The 8 of us watched in hopeful anticipation and absolute hysterics until the neighbor came up on deck with a dishrag and shooed him off, at which point he came back to.. Chickadee. Finally, when the Ruach II crew left our boat, we handed them dingbat Rocky and they hand delivered him to shore to meet his two new best friends. It stuck! He stayed.

The next morning we went ashore for fort exploration and snorkeling, and who greets us? You guessed it. It was the first time I actually checked my bags for a stowaway at the end of the day.

We toured the fort, snorkeled and made a different beach our home for the day.

V impressed us with her endurance for snorkeling. While she still hasn’t gotten the hang of the snorkel itself, she was perfectly happy with a mask and fins, taking breaks on our horizontal backs when she needed a rest, while still keeping her face in the water.

We saw sting rays, barracuda, beautiful coral and too many colorful reef fish to name. Shortly after, the kids made a coral garden from washed up coral. As the days went on and they added to it, it became quite the display.

Day Three in the Dry Tortugas was a sad one for all of us, as we parted ways with our friends aboard Ruach II. They are heading back to the boatyard via the east coast, while we want to explore the west. They left in the morning, and we stayed on another day and night.

That morning we motored over to explore Loggerhead Key 3nm away, another part of the National Park (along with Garden Key and Fort Jefferson).

Upon dinghying ashore and finding the path through the center of the island, I swear I’m not kidding when I say that Rocky was sitting on the edge of it, staring at us like he was waiting to see us. (His band number confirmed our assumption based on his markings..) The volunteer that lives on the island said he landed there a day ago. Holy smokes, maybe it IS Billy Zane.

Loggerhead is beautiful, crazy pigeon and all.

Back ‘home’ to Garden Key for more fort exploration, a walk around the moat, and more snorkeling. Our days there were repetitive but in the most wonderfully laid back way; it was hard to leave. But then, there’s that ‘Dry’ problem…